


Time and Light

by Tish



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Biblical Allusions (Abrahamic Religions), Canonical Character Death, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Time Loop, Time Skips, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21833230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tish/pseuds/Tish
Summary: Fitzjames didn't know if what was happening was real, if he'd been here before, or if this was a delusion. He did, however know that Francis' love was real.
Relationships: Captain Francis Crozier/Commander James Fitzjames
Comments: 10
Kudos: 52
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Time and Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zipegs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zipegs/gifts).



There was once a time when Fitzjames would have conjured up an elaborate and sprawling after-dinner story recounting how he dispatched the creature. Not now, it was all he could do to nod as a breathless Hartnell told how two rockets saw off the beast, doing far more damage with the one that hit, than he could ever hope to with his shotgun. Instead, he followed Lt. Jopson's lead and gave the young man a firm grasp on his shoulder and echoing Jopson's praise.

“Brave lad, you did well.”

*

“You did well, I hear,” Doctor Stanley said as he dosed Fitzjames up in the crowded sick bay.

Fiztjames drank the potion and let Stanley gently set his head back down, delirium starting to flood his body. “How- how bad?”

Stanley paused a moment as he wielded a tortuous-looking surgical instrument. He let his voice become gentler than normal. “It's not too deep, you had the good fortune to have your arm in the way, that slowed it down.”

As fuzziness clouded Fitzjames' mind, and he thought he could see utter despair in the doctor's eyes, his wet hair glowing in the orange firelight, but a small part of him that was still rational knew the doctor was bone-dry and clear-eyed. As he slipped into a happy, drunken stupor, Fitzjames thought he could smell meat cooking.

From somewhere far away in the haze, he could feel something poking at the wound on the side of his chest. “I- I'm not Christ,” he murmured faintly, his tongue seemingly too thick for his mouth. From above, Stanley's expression was quizzical, a flash of doubt crossing his stern features as he probed the wound.

*

The glare was almost overpowering as James took off his blue-tinted eyeglasses, and he squinted into the glare of the cold, bright sun. As he blinked rapidly, Crozier's distraught face seemed to peer down at him, yet the Captain was standing only a few feet away to him.

“There's time,” Crozier said through a buzz of noise as a weak sun burned in the watery blue sky.

James lifted a hand to shield his eyes and the sky returned to a deeper blue above the wall of built-up ice. He felt he was dreaming as he climbed, ice axe digging into the ice blocks to haul himself up with, and then Francis's hand reaching down to him, his face in shadow in front of the bright sunshine.

“There's time,” Crozier's voice said again through the piercing tinnitus tone in James's ears, yet his mouth didn't move, didn't speak words. Their hands met and connected, sending an intense pulse of love through James as Francis pulled him up onto the final block.

The sight of the flag flying over camp _Terror,_ and Crozier's hand in his made James feel stronger, despite his bone-deep weariness.

*

For James, there was a feeling of displacement every now and again, a slight dizzy sensation of movement. It was as though he were falling from a great height to land inside himself, but the feeling was fleeting, a brief spell of both _déjà vu_ and precognition combined. The feelings passed like dreams fading from the memory during the day and he put the occurrences down to tiredness, or perhaps a mild stomach bug.

James had sat in the great-cabin, mired in grief, when the feeling hit him. As Crozier entered the room, James' emotions swirled. Shock, desperation, denial, as well as loathing all battered at him, but then a new set of emotions joined the battle – devotion, love, loyalty. He knew not where these feelings sprang from, but they welled up inside him and surged around him like a current and he felt as if he was tossed ashore at Crozier's feet. He was so tired, always so tired, but he knew he had to battle on for his crew, for all the crew. He looked up at Crozier and felt shards of glass in his chest.

From somewhere far away, James heard Doctor Stanley's voice, calm, but full of concern as he set the bandages on his chest. The smell of roast duck mingled with burnt pork and he opened dazed eyes to see Stanley's grim face, with only the sad gleam of tears in his eyes betraying his abject torment.

*

“Doctor,” James started, then fell silent, trying to find the words.

Doctor Stanley stood silently, looming in the doorway, his face half-hidden in shadow.

James forced himself to speak the words of madness, “I fear this is not going to make any sense, but I've felt I've re-lived certain events, and also known of events to come.”

The doctor let slip a mote of concern from his face, unnoticed as James let his face falls into his hands, wringing his fingers through his hair.

Doctor Stanley shifted a little so his face caught more of the light. “James, we have known each other a good few years now. With Captain Crozier ill, you are feeling the weight of command. We are in a tight situation. Such matters can play tricks upon the mind. You must ensure you are well rested, and I can help with that.”

“I can't have my mind dulled with potions, Stephen, not now,” James protested, starting to feel himself pulled away.

“There's time,” Stanley started to say as the lamp brightened into a fiery orange and buzzed into James' mind.

*

The present slammed back into James and the ticking of Sir John's pocket-watch filled the tense, silent cabin.

“There's time,” Crozier said through the bubbling of the lamps that filled the cabin with a warm, orange glow. James stared at one lamp, eyes scrunching half-shut as the light split into his brain like a pick-axe on ice.

*

Every footstep James took on he ice felt like walking barefoot over rock, and every step on the shale was like shuffling through ice and snow, and the blue sky kept changing hue from a pale, washed-out pastel, to a summery brightness that hurt to look at.

Whenever he looked at Crozier, he felt confused. Anger and resentment merged with fellowship and love for the Captain, and whenever he wanted to make a snide remark, another one of passionate love came creeping into his mind.

*

“I've never said it out loud before now .” At the cairn, James felt he'd said those words before, but to a derisive and dismissive Crozier. He felt he'd said those same words to a loving, compassionate response, and yet again to indifference.

*

The cold, night air bit deep into James as he entered the tent and collapsed onto the cot. He could hardly move a muscle to undress without pain spearing through his joints, so he settled for pulling a blanket over him. Sleep couldn't catch up with his racing, churning mind, so he just laid there with eyes shut, waiting for fatigue to claim him into sleep.

Now and then, the canvas flapped in the wind, too irregular for any soothing lullaby. One time, the tent flapped and Crozier entered, climbing into the cot behind James.

“Francis?” James murmured quietly.

“Mm-hm, I thought you needed a little something to help you sleep,” Francis whispered as he cradled James' body, one arm pulling another blanket closer over them, the heat of his own body starting to warm James a little.

“He offered to help me sleep,” James began, shaking his head as he remembered how long ago his conversation with Doctor Stanley was. “Something I can't comprehend has been happening, Francis. I know I've said this before, but sometimes you wouldn't listen. I've hated you when I loved you, and I've loved you when we were at each other's throats, it's as if I've been out of my time-,” James stopped himself as Francis placed a soothing palm over his forehead.

Francis pressed himself a little closer. “James, I think you may have told me something of this before. You seemed to drift away, then you were colder. You said something about the wrong time, but I didn't understand.”

“When?” James tried to search his memory. _When, indeed_ , he silently mocked himself.

“In the midst of a kiss. It was a little disconcerting, to say the least,” Francis replied tenderly.

“It's something stronger than a memory, I'm there, and it's real, I know it,” James said desperately.

Francis began to sketch out a plan. “If it is real, you may be able to save us before we get to this stage.”

“I can't control when I go, or how far back. Often, I'm in a daze, then I'm back before I can get reoriented,” James protested.

Francis clutched James on the shoulder, rubbing it gently. “If you can reach an early enough point when I'm not pickled, I swear to the Lord, I will listen.”

“I wish with all my heart for that to happen, and for me to have listened to you,” James whispered as Francis started to kiss along his neck.

“You have my heart with you now. There's hope, there's time,” Francis said as he wrapped his arm around James and held tight.

Tears filled his eyes, as James knew in his heart that he was loved by Crozier, as he himself loved and cherished the man.

*

His vision blurred and he was lying in a bed, the guardedly concerned face of Stanley hovering beside him. Blinking his dry, irritated eyes, James struggled to breathe as Crozier clutched his hand. One moment, he smelt burning and potions, the next, canvas and musky blankets.

“Help me out of it,” James murmured.

“I'll do no such thing, Lieutenant. You'll be up and out of my hair in no time,” Doctor Stanley's scolding voice was tinged with warmth, and Fitzjames laughed a little, a cough starting in his lungs.

“Help me out of it,” James murmured, as he fell into himself again, feeling himself start to choke.

He thought he could see sunlight streaming behind Francis' head, but it was nighttime. He thought he heard Francis ask him a question, but his lips didn't move.

*

There'd be time for a rambling self-involved story another time, there'd be a time for expressions of love and devotion. But that would be in some other time, in some other place.

As James climbed the ladder, he saw a city laid out before him, wavering in the heat. Climbing still higher, he perceived another world, an unknowable, invisible world, not future, not distant, but present.

He knew the love of his Captain, even in their enmity, and their thawing feelings of friendship. He knew the full depths of Francis' love, even as he had let him go, and he knew that some day they would be together again.

The light didn't hurt to look at now.


End file.
